Cynthia
by whisperinglately
Summary: Cyn is about a...disturbed person who is obsessed with dally CHAPTER 4 IS UP! Cynthia goes over to the Curtis' and Steve already has enough to deal with besides some crazy chick.Steve has way too much to deal with...and cyn thinks of bad&sad old times R
1. Default Chapter

a weird fic...  
  
read and review please...  
  
Cynthia smiled and let out a shriek of giggles. This was going to be so   
  
much fun! The other passengers on the train glared at her like she was   
  
crazy, and though she was accustomed to those looks, she still twisted up   
  
her mouth and screamed a string of cuss words at them. Crazy looks turned   
  
into horrified looks. Resuming her smile, she lay her head against the   
  
window and shut her eyes. She could almost see him...  
  
"Ma'am?" Blinking, she looked at the man in the standard unifrom of the   
  
train personnel who was hunched over it.  
  
"How far is it to Tulsa?" She asked with a frown.  
  
"Ma'am?" He said puzzled. "200 miles, but I had a couple'a of complaints   
  
from the people around you."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Can you quiet down some, ma'am?" He said slowly.  
  
"Oh, but I wasn't doing anything! You saw me, sitting here trying to   
  
sleep!"  
  
"Ma'am, please..."  
  
"Oh, fine. Just let me sleep. That's all I wanted in the first place, you   
  
know.  
  
"O-kay." Wrinkling his forehead, the man went off to resume his position   
  
of mopping the bathroom floor.  
  
Yawning, she closed her eyes again and happily remembered.  
  
~*~*  
  
It had just rained. Pale lights reflected off of the dying mist and water   
  
slipped into the gutters. One boy, slowly inhaling his last cigarette,   
  
leaned against a cracked building. He had twenty minutes left in New York   
  
City.  
  
His solitude was interrupted by a girl approaching him, humming while   
  
twirling her umbrella. "Christ! What the fuck are you doing here?" He   
  
scowled. Ooooooh...wasn't he so cute? She thought. Reactively, she brushed   
  
her hand across the side of his face, but he pushed it off.  
  
"I wanted to see you before you left. I'll miss you so much, really I   
  
will."  
  
"Yeah well, the state found out I had parents so they're shipping me off   
  
to them."  
  
"Oh, how wonderful! You'll finally have a real home off the streets!"  
  
"Listen lady, shut-up before I clock you. My parents are bums and I ran   
  
away when I was eight."  
  
"That's so sad. I think you should stay here with me."  
  
  
  
He rolled his eyes, but he was almost getting used to her. She hung around   
  
all the time, the crazy bat. Man, you sleep with a girl a few times and she   
  
thinks you're hers for good.  
  
"Well I can't, thank God." Dally was gonna miss New York, but he sure   
  
wasn't gonna miss her.  
  
~*~*  
  
Cynthia went flying into the seat in front of her. Swearing it was the   
  
guy who had bothered her earlier come back to torment her, she clenched her   
  
teeth and swung around. The passengers were getting out of their seats, but   
  
not because they wanted to move away from her. The train had stopped, and   
  
they were getting off. The sudden movement had made her fall.  
  
Collecting herself and her battered luggage, Cynthia pushed through the   
  
people-getting flustered looks as she did-so she could get off quicker. The   
  
wind hit her hard when she stepped out. Her black jacket, stuck on over her   
  
pink dress, would come in handy against the cold.  
  
"Why is it so quiet?" She wondered out loud immediatedly. It was; the   
  
only sounds were the shuffling of passengers and the voice of train   
  
whistles. Glancing down the surrounding alleys, it became apparent that   
  
they were empty. It figured that Tulsa wouldn't be as wild as New York ,   
  
but was it this dull?  
  
Cynthia walked down an alley just to really see if there was no one   
  
around. No one jumped out and demanded money. With a sigh she headed down   
  
the side of a busy street that weaved through the city and twenty minutes   
  
passed before she saw another person face-to-face. Actually, it was a group   
  
of people-bloody, bruised, half-dead, yet smiling over a hard-won victory.  
  
"Hey, y'all!" She yelled out to them.  
  
They popped their knuckles at the sight of her. She was carrying a purse.   
  
She was a strange looking one, and sure not much to look at. She was suited   
  
in a pink flowery dress. Pink. Flowery. With sandals. Nearly made them as   
  
sick as they felt.  
  
"You're fucking lucky the Shepard gang doesn't beat the shit out of girls."   
  
One said, eyeing her with a snort, while another grabbed her bag. She   
  
wasn't much to look at.  
  
"Whatever. Dally's gonna get you anyways when I tell him you took my   
  
purse."  
  
The gang held back something for a minute while Tim asked a question.  
  
"Dallas Winston? How do you know him?"  
  
"We used to go together."  
  
A fit of laughter erupted. Man, they might have stopped if they could; it   
  
hurt to laugh. It hurt to move their chests. It hurt to walk, even. They   
  
stopped only to hoot the things whipping through their minds. "I KNEW DALLY   
  
HAD BAD TASTE BUT NOT THAT BAD!" "OOOOH, DALLY GOT DESPERATE!" "AND I   
  
THOUGHT SYLVIA WAS THE WORSE HE COULD DO!" 


	2. Chapter Two

hey! i'm finally back! first off, here's my reviews for the last chapter and my reviews of my reviews.  
  
-----  
  
lil: actually i was joking about it being a mary sue cause cyn isn't exactly a miss perfect cause she's a wack job, but maybe she is, i dunno...anyway, i'll keep writing this and i'm glad you like it.  
  
pinkylemon: oh good! i'm glad she's coming across crazy enough...and i didn't even have to have her start raving about penguins! that was such a great review...thanks!  
  
lindsey rogers: aaaagh. mixed review. yeah, there probably is room for improvement! thanks for reviewing anyways  
  
goddess of silent tears: hey! yay, people are reading this! orginally i deleted the story off my computer but i had a good memory and a rough draft of it...man, i haven't read your curly shepard fic lately...how's it coming? i'll try to check it out again. and thanks for replying to that e-mail i sent you.  
  
-----  
  
and on with the fic... ( by the by, pleese, plez, pleese read it and review it)  
  
"Do you know where I can find him?" Cynthia asked loudly, over the laughs choking the gang. They heard her good enough and started pointing all different ways.   
  
Tim rolled his eyes, waved his hand, and everyone of the guys dropped their arms and shut-up. With a step forward, Tim walked around Cynthia and began talking. "Normally, I'd tell you directions that'd make you end up...back in..." He stopped. "Where you from again?"  
  
"New York City."  
  
Tim's grin widened. "Dally's old town...you must be his old...sweetheart." A howl from one of the gang. Tim would've had him hit over the head for not being quiet, but he understood. It was too damn funny.   
  
"Well, I wouldn't keep you two lovebirds apaft. He's probably at Darry and Sodapop's."  
  
"Who?" Cynthia asked, squintining her eyes a little.   
  
The boys started talking. "Ain't he in the hospital?" "Naw, stupid, he busted out! Didn't ya see 'em at the rumble?"  
  
"Hospital?" She looked up. Was he alright? Poor Dally. Her poor baby...  
  
Tim shook his head. "He's at the Curtis's. God down this street, turn right, go down Pickett..."  
  
"Can I get a ride from one of you?"  
  
Cue for the gang: "Nah, we wouldn't want Dally to come after us for screwing around with his chick..." "I've already cheated on my girl twice this month. " "Maybe if ya weren't so fuckin' ugly..." "I've seen guys who look better than you." "You fag." "I was just saying..."  
  
Tim kept smiling, showing off his bad teeth, and running his hand through his hair. "Can you get a ride...we don't want you going through town on your lonesome...you could get killed 'fore Dally sees you...but really...doll...(snicker)...we gotta get back to terrorizing the good people around the train station." He snapped his fingers. "Ronnie, right down directions."  
  
"I don't got a pen."  
  
Cynthia unzipped a pocket of her suitcase and took a lovely feathery one and tried to hand it to Ronnie.  
  
"Aw...Tim...I had one of those girly pens earlier, but I must've dropped it while I was beating the shit outta somebody. I ain't using that thing..."  
  
Tim: "No one's gonna call you a pansy."  
  
Gang member: "I will."  
  
Tim: "Write it down. Everyone else in the gang is probably too stupid to know how to write."  
  
Ronnie: "Why don't you write it, Tim?"  
  
Tim: "Cause I told you to...and I don't want to look like a pansy, you fucking pansy."  
  
-------  
  
Cynthia ran as fast as she could. Dally had been hurt. What happened to him? Hosptial. The hospital. He HATED hospitals. It must've been bad if he had let people drag him into one of those...And then he broke out and got into a fight...  
  
She started crying as she ran. Not so much for Dally as that her sandals were KILLING her feet. She was close to the Curtis's....  
  
She could see a group of boys running. The one in the back called out, "Did he say anything else, Darry?"   
  
She stopped and catched her breath. Well, she had found them. How many Darry's could there be? She'd never heard it before. But maybe there were a lot in Tulsa...She called out "Excuse me!" But they kept running. Rude, ornery boys. Her feet HURT. Sighing, she took off after them.  
  
---- 


	3. The Vacant Lot

_Hey y'all. How's it been going for ya? Sorry it's taking me so f-ing long to post. It took me awhile to figure out how to do this chapter. It's not as light as the other chapters are. It would've been to...blah if I went the other way...know what I mean, Goddess of Silent Tears? Well, this chapter seems a little blah to me, too, but the whole fic would've been messed up if I made...Ah, only Goddess of Silent Tears knows what I'm talking about!   
  
Anyway, hope everybody reads and reviews this...  
  
Here's my reviews of the reviews, er...review of the review, from last chapter:  
  
Goddess of Silent Tears: yergh, i'll try to make a longer one...Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Okay, enough of that, on with the fic..._  
  
**Cynthia: Chapter Three **  
  
It was like she had run into a twilight zone. Everything was so strange. The Oklahoma hotness was setting in, concocting a feverish, humid air. And as she got closer to where the Curtis boys were, for they had stopped running and were now standing very still, she recognized a blaring noise as blaring police sirens. She shuddered instictively, and then gave off a wide smile. Something was about to happen. Something interesting. Perhaps Tulsa was not so boring after all.  
  
She was in calling distance to the boys, but the police cars were skidding to a halt and they couldn't hear her call out "Where's Dally?" He might want to see when this action went down. But then again, he didn't like to be around cops. She wondered where he was.  
  
She looked around fervently. She had come all this way, and she couldn't stand to be without her precious another minute.  
  
And then she saw him, his hair glowing, illuminated by the dim street light like an angel. His face...oh, he was a tortured angel. No doubt about that. Just one look at his face and you could tell he had a tortured soul. His harsh twisted bitter face...Her eyes brimmed with tears. He was so perfect.  
  
Savoring that first taste of him for as many seconds as she could, she finally called out to her love.  
  
"------!" She couldn't hear her own voice. It had been drowned out by a sudden ritcochet of bullets. They shot him down like an animal.  
  
"Dallas!" She repeated. He had sank to his knees like he was praying. "Oh Sweet Jesus!" No, no, her baby, her dear, dear, sweet Dallas....she was going to faint she was going to faint...but if she did she would have to take her eyes off of him...  
  
She tried to go to him, lunging herself towards the pitiful piece of concrete that he was laying on. Why wasn't anyone helping him dammit? The police officers were holding her back. Why? Why? Did they want him to die? They did. But he wasn't their fucking prized turkey...  
  
"He's not a turkey, dammit!" She cried out.  
  
An ambulance sped up to the vacant lot, but they loaded a different boy. She looked at him coldly. What...what...why him? If Dallas died because they had paid attention to that other boy first...She saw the Curtis near the boy on the stretcher. One of them was sobbing and looking at Dally. None of them were doing anything for Dallas, dammit! Maybe that one wanted to, but another one was holding him. Keeping him from helping Dallas...  
  
The police officers weren't watching her carefully. No one was helping Dallas and he was still laying there. She threw herself on him before anyone could stop her...they didn't care if he died but they cared if she held him? She had seconds to cradle his head in her arms, and he was so pale, but he had always been pale, but why was he so clammy? Why was he so damn still? She kissed him down his neck while the policemen grabbed at her arms. Dallas still tasted the same...dust and sweat and cigarettes and alcohol...but now blood as well...She was pulled away from him, her lips stained bright red.

* * *

After patting him down and stealing his switchblade, they finally placed Dally in an ambulance, though the sirens were not turned on, and she craned her head through the window of the police car to see this. Handcuffs were clasped tightly around her wrist. She had grabbed one of the billy sticks from one of the policemen and hit one of them across the forehead with it.  
  
Oh Dally.....  
  
"That's one more thug off of our streets, I tell you what." The officer in the front of the police car Cynthia was locked in was chuckling on his walkie talkie.  
  
Cynthia pressed her face against the metal wall that seperated them and screamed at him, "He's not a turkey! He will fly out from the hospital with his golden wings and yo uwill have no turkey to stuff your mouths with and tack onto your walls and he will bring fire to destroy you and I will chuckle while your flesh sizzles."  
  
"Sure, kid," He said, hooting and swishing his tobacco in his mouth. "He's even coming back for you right? Gonna pay your bail money?"  
  
"Yes," She said her eyes widening, seeing it all. "He's coming back for me."

* * *

She sat in jail for two days decorating her cell wall. She had gathered as many newspapers as she could get passed to her, looking for the one article that Dally was mentioned in. The lines read:  
  
"Police were speedy to find an armed robber after Conor Jennings, owner of a local Quick Stop reported an attempted hold-up. A shoot-out occured after the robber pulled his gun on police who were able to shoot him. Thankfully, no policemen were injured."  
  
Cynthia had already found four of these articles and stuck them on her walls with gum and drew hearts and flowers all around them.  
  
"Did he die?" One of her cell mates asked.  
  
"No," She said matter-of-factly. "And the article was wrong. All of the policemen died because all of their filthy cars blew up. I only survived because Dallas, not even flinching after all those bullets almost hit him, pulled me out of the police car."  
  
The cell mate raised here eyebrow. "Cynthia..."  
  
"MY NAME IS NOT CYNTHIA!" She screamed. "Cynthia is a bitch! She would have let the policemen shoot Dally!" Her voice softened and she began braiding her hair. "My name is Myra Crawford."  
  
---------------------------  
  
Poor Cynthia. Anyways review pleaase. I'll try to update soon.  
  
love and peace  
  
jazzy 


	4. Chapter Four

Hey everybody!  
  
Sorry it's been so long. I was having some writer's block...Goddess of Sarcasm was gonna help me out, but...hmmm...Goddess, we'll have to talk about that later or something. I'll e-mail ya. Thanks a bunch, babe.  
  
-  
  
reviews of reviews:  
  
Goddess of Sarcasm-actually, i meant the police got the switchblade, not Cyn. glad ya got a laugh admist the drama.  
  
skylar (skylarlovesfrogsyahoo.com) - thanks for reviewing. yeah, cyn certainly doesn't have the happiest life.  
  
Bobby'sgirl51-glad you like my story!  
  
PinkyLemon-yep. nutzo cynthia. i didn't know what to write for a bit, but now i'm continuing!!! you liked tim's friend's bit? thanks!  
  
-  
  
Read and review please. Tell me if ya love it, like it, or think it sucks.  
  
-  
  
This is a loooong chapter for me...A lot of stuff to take in...  
  
Crazy things are about to happen. Hope the chapter catches your attention.  
  
---  
  
CHAPTER 4  
  
---  
  
People were flopped all over the living room. From what she recollected, they were some of boys she had seen that Saturday night. From standing outside and looking through their window, she saw four of them.   
  
Hadn't there been five before? Where was the little bleached blonde one who had been carted off? Had he been shot, too?  
  
Cynthia had walked over here as soon as she was released from jail. She had no where to go, no money (the Shepards had taken care of that), and she had lost her suitcase admist everything that had happened.  
  
And she had no Dallas. He was gone. The sole reason she had left New York City-well, the sole reason she had left New York City for Tulsa. There were other reasons why she had left, the same reasons that would be keeping her from going back if she had money to get there...But Dally, Dally...wherever he was right now, she could not be with him and so she was stranded.  
  
These people were Dallas' friends...they knew him. All these years that she had been without him, they had him. Didn't they realize how lucky they were?   
  
Without knocking, as she had seen another boy approach the house earlier before, she walked in. Eyes that had been previously staring at the ground or out into nothingness, eyes that were bloodshot from drinking too much and lack of sleep, shot up at her.  
  
"Who the fuck are you?" The voice came from the boy who had been sobbing on Saturday. He was sitting beside the boy who had been holding him by the arms. The second boy had a beautiful face, but he looked so drained. All of them did.  
  
"Oh, I thought this was a homeless shelter..." She half-joked. It might be for all she knew.  
  
"Well it's not, so get out, bitch." He was angry. It was no wonder. He had seen Dallas shot days ago. He thought Dallas was dead, but no, he couldn't be. Dallas would come back for her.  
  
"Aw...lay off, Steve," The beautiful boy said.  
  
"Dallas..." She mumbled.  
  
The still bodies stirred.  
  
"What about him?" A tall buff twenty-something spoke up. Buff wasn't the word...more like exploding with muscles.  
  
"You know him." Cynthia said. They were still staring at her.  
  
"So?" Another one asked casually, flipping through the channels on the t.v. now.  
  
"Listen, if you're a reporter or something..." The muscular one asked. Steve opened his mouth to spit something else on her-or actually spit on her, she wasn't sure which-she said quietly, "No...I know Dallas, too."  
  
Steve shut his mouth. They were all looking at her, waiting for her to say something else. "I...I was wondering if I could stay here until he came back."  
  
Steve snorted and walked out of the room. The beautiful one cringed, and the one with the channel selector dropped it and then fumbled to pick it up again.  
  
The muscular one looked at her pitifully. "I'm sorry..."  
  
"I can't stay here?" Cynthia asked.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Myra."

"Myra, Dallas, Dally died a few days ago." He paused, waiting for her to start crying or something. She shook her head. They didn't know that he was coming back. It would be too hard to convince them. She'd have to let them just see later.  
  
"You all saw him get shot."  
  
"Christ!" Steve must've been listening from inside the kitchen. The muscular one flinched and the beautiful one curled up on the couch. The other boy stared. Steve walked back in, "Bitch, we don't give a fuck about you. Just because you're some whore Dally fucked doesn't mean you're one of us, and you come in here talkin about him and trying to free-load! Do you know what we've fuckin been through? Why don't you just get back to the streets?"  
  
"Why don't you just stop, Steve?" Everyone's heads jerked up to see the boy leaning on the doorframe of the kitchen. His bleached hair looked so strange on his pale face, and his legs shook like he was about to collapse. The poor kid was worn and tired.  
  
Steve shot him a horrible look, but quickly changed to suprise.  
  
"Pony?" The muscular one and the pretty boy had jumped up and put the younger boy's arms around their shoulders. "What are you doin' out of bed?" "You should be sleepin, honey."  
  
The one on the couch waved and grinned. "Whatcha doin, Pony?"

The two guys shifted Pony's weight. "Don't talk. Save your energy." "Let's get you back to bed, honey."  
  
"He...shouldn't...talk to a girl...like that. Who is she?"  
  
Two-Bit turned off the t.v. "Just some dumb...Hey where'd she go?"  
  
The door was flung open and Cynthia had ran down the street, sobbing horribly, loudly enough where the two boys in the living room could hear, but not loud enough for the three boys headed for the back bedroom could hear as Pony continued to try to talk despite being told not to.  
  
"Away, thank God."  
  
"Aw, Steve, ya scared off the weird chick. Oh well, you usually scare off people."  
  
"Fuck you, Two-Bit."  
  
"Gosh, you're friendly today."  
  
Steve was silent as he stared out the door, watching her footsteps slow and then her knees give way as she fell down still sobbing in the middle of the street. Two-Bit glanced that way, but then Steve crossed the room, slammed the door, and told Two-Bit to flip back on the t.v.  
  
---  
  
He called her just a whore that Dally fucked...it...it...was that all she was? No, no...but why did he say that? Was there a lot of girls he fucked? Was she just some whore? Was what Steve said true? Was it?  
  
No...no...NOOOO! Dally loved her, and she loved him. Steve was just saying shit. Steve didn't know anything. He doesn't know anything about her. Nothing.  
  
_She had moved to New York City so that her family could get better. Her father had fucked the cleaning lady at their home in Missouri, but her mother didn't leave him. Myra Crawford Abbott...her mother...her mother loved him and would do anything for him.  
  
But in New York, her father did it again, and then her mother got sick and he did it again and after her mother was dead and buried her father was still doin it and Cynthia stopped sleeping at her own house because there were always guests over.  
  
Then she had met her angel. Dallas. Dallas. _God, she couldn't wait till she would be with him again. She could almost feel him there with her right now, as cars swerved around her and nasty words were flung at her while she sat with her knees curled against her chest and her fingers stroking the blackness of the road.  
  
_And after he had left, she still slept in the streets thinking he might have walk past, thinking that he might have changed his mind and came back to New York, but after a few weeks she decided it would be much longer until she saw him, and she slept in the streets only to help herself remember the times she had seen Dallas, and the things he had said to her, the things they had done. And then finally, she lay in her own bed again, repeating her conversations with him loudly so she wouldn't hear the things her father said to his guests until she fell asleep. And then, hopefully, she would dream about him.  
_  
She loved Dallas.  
  
---  
  
What did she think she was doing? Idiot. Steve didn't need some dumb-ass chick annoying him right now. His friend was dead! When she mentioned him getting shot, holy shit! Who the fuck does she think she is?

Things hadn't been good lately. _He had come over to the Curtis' a week ago and Soda was bawling. Darry had hit Pony (little shit probably deserved it), Pony and Johnny had ran away, and the two of them were wanted for murder. So Steve stays around the Curtis's house for a few days, he's not gonna leave his best friend, especially when Soda's girl runs off. That bitch. And when he does go home, his father bitches at him for being gone and then tells him to fix him a sandwich, lazy-assed motherfucker. And then the rumble, he breaks three ribs..._Steve rubbed his side and winced at the pain..._and then Johnny...and Dally..._  
  
Why does the world have to keep screwing you over?  
  
Steve was laying on Soda's old bed looking at the ceiling. The Curtis house was quieter than it usually was at only 1:00 in the morning. But Darry didn't want everyone waking up his precious little brother so he made everyone quiet down. Two-Bit kept getting hit over the head because he'd make some choice remarks and then start howling-laughing. Steve had left the couch hours ago. After Darry and Soda had came back into the room, Soda mentioned something about the girl and Darry sighed and said he felt sorry for her and someone called Steve an ass but he was only half-listening. He didn't want to be there. They were his buddies, all he had left of them, but he just wanted to be alone. He couldn't go home, he didn't want to deal with his father again on top of everything, so he just wandered back here and pretended to be asleep when Soda came back here.  
  
On top of everything...on top of everything...he just wanted to escape...stop thinking...please come a dreamless sleep...  
  
---  
  
His face twisted and he could feel a scream ripping through his chest and burning up his throat, but when he opened his mouth he felt a hand gently slide down his face and his scream disappeared.  
  
_ The scream was all the years when he would be folded into the corner of the living room and not daring to look up, just watching the shadow of a man and listening to the shattering and not crying when the shards hit him because he wouldn't let the old man get the satisfaction of it.  
  
And it wasn't any better now...now he would stumble out of the house while the man would tell him how worthless he was and how he had always done everything for Steve's own good, and then smile at Steve in the morning, grin at him ashamdedly, and pat him on the back and give him a few dollars.  
  
And in this dream, he didn't need those dollars to buy something to eat, in this dream he tore them up and he killed his father. Stabbed him while he layed passed out on the couch, his blood running down Steve's hand...but in his head, Steve could hear his dead voice whispering what a worthless son he was...  
_  
But now Steve was suddenly soothed, and he could feel a warm touch sliding down his face. His breathing slowed.  
  
His eyes opened slowly and he could see someone laying across from him, with their head on the pillow. It was her.  
  
He lunged backwards, hitting the dresser. Crazy bitch...what the fuck...  
  
"GET OUT!"  
  
Her body was perfectly still, except for her head which tilted slightly. He couldn't believe it. What was she doing?  
  
"Your eyes. You're so angry." She whispered. "It's beautiful. Passion."  
  
He hit her across the face and walked out of the room.  
  
---  
  
He was supposed to call Evie tonight. He remembered now. He had told her that...was it yesterday? Yesterday. Yeah. She was probably asleep now. School tomorrow and everything. He wasn't going to go.  
  
He hadn't the day before. But...no. He would. What else was there to do. Work. Oh right. Work. But he didn't have a shift, he could get it changed, Evie could stop by after school, no, he'd go. work after. Go back to sleep now? No, he couldn't...someone was in the bed...or maybe on the floor now...  
  
God...  
  
"Steve?" Darry was behind him. "What was the..."  
  
"I'm going..." He couldn't go home. _Corner. Shards. Worthless_. "to school."  
  
"Steve, it's 4:00 in the morning. Steve...Steve..."  
  
The front door slammed behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

_In the mist our complicated thoughts became so clear. I can understand it all, Dally, but Cynthia runs from it. She refuses to admit you are gone, she clings to you she needs you in any form, Dally. She will accept you as the glint of hatred in another man's eyes. I am lost inside of her. Nameless. The sanity that exists inside. Floating to the mind in dreams, in drunkenness, in black-outs. Do you remember the nights you laid on my shoulder, as we tried to drink ourselves into oblivion? She cannot remember, but I do._

_I heard you cry while you held my hand and I cried with you. You might as well have been nameless, too. Who are we but the children of the streets, escaping life through bullets and sublimination? You might as well been crazy, too._

_Maybe it would have kept you alive…_

_I listened as you explained your childhood, flying hippopotamuses at the amusement park given up for shuddering in the corner of an apartment broken glass again. In moments you let go for me only to forget the next day._

_Can love exist in the space between unconsciousness and sobriety?_

_This is where our dreams played hide-and-go-seek. We would have loved to have been children again. I will meet you where the electricity never gets turned off and flowers grow in the gutters._


End file.
